


Some Things Are Not

by Catchclaw



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Destiel - Freeform, Domestic, F/M, Fluff, Genderswap, M/M, Porn With Plot, Romance, Schmoop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-20
Updated: 2013-02-20
Packaged: 2017-11-29 22:40:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,543
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/692341
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Catchclaw/pseuds/Catchclaw
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Despite Cas' assurances that situations like this are usually temporary, he's not the one who's suddenly a girl, damn it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Some Things Are Not

**Author's Note:**

> For my lovely ex, on his birthday.

"Well, this is bullshit," Dean said.

He caught Cas' sigh in the mirror and glared.

"What?"

"I believe you're overreacting."

"Overreacting!" Dean shouted, and ok, maybe that was a little much for 7:30 in the morning. "Fuck me, Cas! I'm a freaking _girl_!"

Cas rubbed his face, all sleepy adorable in his boxers with the sailboats and Dean couldn't even appreciate that, he was so goddamn upset.

"Dean. Situations like this are--usually temporary."

Dean spun around and got pistol-whipped by his new stupid long hair.

"Goddamn it!" he yelled, at the universe, at Cas, he wasn't sure. "Usually?!"

Cas crossed his eyes. "In my experience, yes, but I must acknowledge the possibility that--"

"Oh my god. I might be _stuck_ this way?"

"Dean, no, you're probably--"

"Oh my _god_ ," Dean whispered. The what-the-hell gave way to full-on fear and he buried his face in his hands, shoved his (apparently slim) hips against the sink and did his best not to sob.

He tried. He really did.

Then he felt Cas' hand on his shoulder, and it was the same grip, steady and sure, that he'd always known. 

"Dean," Cas said. Same voice, same soft rush against his ear as always. "I love you."

Which was both the last and the very first thing Dean wanted to hear, dick or no dick, and he leaned back, let Cas' arms find their way around him, and it was awesomely comforting and familiar until his breasts bumped Cas' wrists and then he was--

"Shit! I'm calling Bobby!"

**

"Son," Bobby said. "What in the hell did you do?"

"Your compassion is overwhelming," Dean huffed, winding himself deeper into Cas' robe.

There was this long sigh cluttered with something suspiciously like a snort.

"Look. You're not better in the morning, 48 hours tops, you call me back. These things are usually temporary."

"Usually?!" Dean shouted, but the line was already dead.

**

He took the fastest shower known to man--or, uh--and then stomped downstairs in three layers of plaid and an old pair of Cas' jeans.

"Oh," he said, skittering to a stop. "You made pancakes."

Cas blinked at him over the syrup.

"Yes," he said. "I know."

"Oh, for--" Dean sighed, and leaned down for a kiss without thinking.

Cas' face was way scratchier than he remembered but he tasted the same, allspice and ice chips. 

And when he pitched up, Cas had that same haze of love and disbelief and utter fucking certainty that he always did when they kissed.

"There's bacon," Cas said.

"Fuck yes," Dean breathed, making for the stove. "I knew I loved you for a reason."

"Mmm," Cas hummed. "Of course. For my pork."

**

Dean did the dishes while Cas took out the trash, and when they reconvened in the living room, it was the fourth hour of _Today_.

"What kind of a name is Hoda?" Dean snickered, kicking over Cas' knees.

"It's Farsi," Cas said, his voice rumbling into Dean's back. "It means 'thankfulness.'" 

"Thank you, Mr. Incapable of Snark," Dean huffed, but he let Cas tug him closer, let himself be pulled deeper under the blanket and stuck his tongue out at the cold.

"Goddamn February," he sighed, digging into Cas' lap and--

"Oh," he said, faint, because hello, Cas was apparently enjoying Kathie Lee way the fuck more than he was because--

"Dean," Cas breathed. "Sweetheart."

His hands were bigger on Dean's thighs than usual, than Dean expected, but the twitch of his hips, the heat of his cock in the crook of Dean's ass was good, really really--

Dean arched back, pressed his body into Cas' and if the moan that fell out of his throat was higher than it should have been, he so did not give a shit, right then.

"Beautiful," Cas sighed into his throat. "Dean. You're so beautiful."

He got his fingers under Dean's shirts and cupped his breast and it should have been totally weird and it was, but it was Cas, his Cas, and fuck it felt good, but--

"You're just saying that 'cause I've got boobs," he panted, shifting, feeling Cas jerk beneath him, behind him, and--

"Dean," Cas said, serious. "You look the same to me. Beautiful. Always."

Something in Dean went hot and scared at that and he yanked Cas' hand from his thigh rather than dwell and shoved it between his legs, that hand, under his jeans and over his clit, and ok, holy shit, that was awesome.

And Cas agreed, apparently, because he groaned, went from jerking to bucking and kept going, twisted two fingers in and, oh, apparently Dean's new body was just as down with this plan as Cas' because _goddamn_ was he wet just from this stupid fumbling and pawing and the next thing he knew, he was upright on the couch and Cas was between his knees pulling his jeans away and, _shit_.

The look Cas gave him just before he licked Dean's clit was gonna stay burned in his retinas for all time, if he had any say about it.

It should have scared him, coming with his hand in Cas' hair and Cas' fingers in his cunt and that fucking cobra of a tongue weaving over his clit, but it was Cas, his Cas, and nothing else mattered.

They fucked on the couch slow during _The Price is Right_ , Cas kissing his breasts and going to pieces inside him, someplace deep and secret and sweet.

"I'm not gonna break, you know," Dean sighed, petting at the curve of Cas' back.

"I know," Cas murmured in his ear. "I know. Won't let you."

**

Sam called while Cas was in the shower, right in the middle of Dean's second sandwich.

"You're a _girl_?" he squeaked.

"No, dude," Dean said, batting Bean away from the crust. "I'm a woman."

A self-righteous sigh. "Were you gonna call, Dean? Or were you just gonna wait until spring break and be like, hey Sam, guess what? This man has no dick!"

"Cas says these things are usually temporary," Dean said through a mouthful of turkey. "So stop worrying."

"Usually?" Sam squawked.

"Son of a--!" Dean shouted, dropping the phone on the counter. "Bean! That's my sandwich, you asshole!"

The cat shot down the hall purring like a six cylinder and chewing and, crap. Dean's lunch was a fucking lost cause.

Sam's voice was tinny incredulous. "You're more worried about your sandwich than your--than your--?!"

"My what, Sam?" Dean sighed, watching Bean happily lap mayonaise off the carpet. "It's still me, ok? I'm fine."

"If you say so," Sam said, dubious. 

"Yeah, well," Dean said to dead air. "Cas does, too."

He cleaned up the corpse of his sandwich while Bean preened in triumph, then wandered upstairs and found Cas puttering around the bathroom.

"Don't you have class today?" he asked.

"Mmmm," Cas mumbled around his toothbrush, one hand tangled in a clean shirt. "Tomorrow."

Dean grinned and shucked his plaid. "Awesome," he said. "C'mere."

He got Cas naked and glassy-eyed, pitched his knees on either side of that dark head and watched Cas eat him out for forever, and the parts were different, sure, and Cas' tongue a freaking missile in a way that was outright amazing, but the sounds he made as he devoured Dean's cunt were the same: low and pleased up to fucking delirious when Dean pushed off the headboard and took Cas in, got that gorgeous cock tucked up inside.

And the mechanics were the same, too, when you got down to it, even if Dean stroked his breasts instead of his cock and rubbed his clit on Cas' fingers rather than his balls, and when Cas came loud as a fucking thunderbolt, it was Dean's name he broke on, like always.

He tugged Cas out and slid two fingers in, shoved himself through their slick as Cas flicked his clit and oh fuck, yes, it was way different, clenched and tight instead of everywhere wet, but he was Dean and this was Cas and that was all that mattered.

"I love you," Cas sighed into his hair, and goddamn it. Dean believed him.

**

"I told you," Cas said, the sunset in his eyes.

Dean did a little turn, the ghosts of his breasts in the mirror. 

"Yeah. You were right. It was just temporary."

Cas pushed off the doorframe and tangled his arms in Dean's. Planted his chin on Dean's shoulder and stared at him in the mirror. Smiled.

"So I always look the same to you, huh?" Dean said, his lips twitching.

"Look? Yes. Feel?" Cas' hand shot into his boxers. And, um. Gripped. "No."

Dean shivered and he felt Cas chuckling against his neck.

"Some things are temporary, Dean," he murmured. "And some things are not."

"Hey!" Dean said, suddenly suspicious, fist on his dick or no. "Mr. Afterschool Special! You weren't trying to-- _oh_ \--teach me a lesson or some shit, right?"

"I love _you_ ," Cas said, like that made any sense. He did this thing with his wrist, twist, and Dean shuddered. "Now shut up and let me suck your cock."

And if the sound that came out of Dean's mouth was a little deeper than he expected, hell. He so did not care.


End file.
